Becoming Mine
by TheWickedFreak
Summary: An epic love story about Lilly and James Potter
1. The Present Nightmare

A swirling mist encompassed the ground, as a dark figure walked down the street. His mission was unknown, but the smell of death floated around him like the black cloak he wore. And somewhere in the bushes, a boy was hiding, lurking where the shadowed man could not find him. And air of fear had possessed him, and he was scared for his life. For should he move, death would certainly be at his feet. As the footsteps of the dark figure grew faint, the boy slowly crept out from the dry leaves, and began to follow the man at a distance. Survival of the fittest, the boy thought. I must stop him. I must protect them…

As the mist cleared, houses and street lamps started to appear, where nothing had been before. All seemed peaceful for this neighborhood. Nothing out of place or time, but it was too silent to be completely safe and harmless. Something in the quiet lurked and made the silence eerie and dark. If at all, nothing was to be trusted.

The boy's footsteps were growing softer as he approached the neighborhood. He sensed the danger within the comfort of the homes. Nothing was safe, yet nothing was seen unsafe. Looks can be deceiving, he thought. I've known, I remember. Though the neighborhood was foreign, there was something strangely familiar about it. "Don't fall for this," he said to himself. "He will trick you…He will come for you."

Tired of waiting, the boy was giving up all hope. There was, after all, the dark ghost of a man, but nowhere was this man to be found. At last, the dark-haired boy began to turn around. So much for saving them, he thought. Yet as he stepped away, a strange shadow appeared by the house to his right. The boy stood in fear, praying that he was just far enough out of sight from the cloaked fiend. The man (was he a man?) in the cloak seemed to breath in all of the happiness and comfort around him and never let it go. He replaced it with the darkness and grief, even the lanterns seemed to dim in his presence. Without a sound, the demon walked up the porch of the house, took something out of his cloak, muttered inaudible words, and unlocked the door. "Stop!" the boy cried. "It's me you want to fight! Get away from there!" But nothing could stop the cloaked man now. He opened the door, walked in, and shut it.

"No," the boy whispered in disbelief. Terror seized him, and he ran as fast as he could, never minding the unknown danger and power of the cloaked figure. "I won't let him, I won't let him!" the boy yelled. Nothing could be worse than what is to happen.

He reached the door, the door was locked. Screams could be heard from behind the door. He tugged and pulled as hard as he can. Tears were building up, but he couldn't cry now. He couldn't. He had to get to them. He pulled out a stick from the pocket of his jeans. "Alohomora!" he cried. The door unlocked, but not soon enough for him. A man and a woman could be heard upstairs, screaming in torture and agony. The boy ran upstairs, rolling his ankle as he went up. He screamed in pain, but he couldn't stop now. Nothing would stop him. He had to get to them. He had to save them…

Too late. Upon approaching a small room, he could see both of the bodies. "No," the boy sobbed. "No, please…don't leave…don't go…I need you more than ever…" The boy got down on his knees and cradled the woman's head, her green eyes lost in the light of death. Her touch was soft but growing cold with every second passing. The man laid there in his broken glasses, blood trickling down from his forehead from a small gash. And the boy…the boy could do nothing but cry. Hot tears came upon his face, knowing that there was nothing he could do to bring the life back into his beloved parents. He wept on his mother, wishing for her warm embrace, wishing he could have saved them.

No sooner had he begun to weep than a soft and malicious laugh became audible. It grew louder and louder until finally the boy looked up and beheld the shadowy figure which he had been pursuing. His tall stature seemed even bigger to the boy, down at the ground where he was kneeling. The black dark hair didn't quite cover his snake-like eyes. The sinister laugh was enough to chill the boy's bones. The tears of sadness soon turned to anger and hate. There was nothing more to be lost, only his own life. The boy's face turned to rage, jumping to his feet he lunged at his enemy with all the strength he possessed.

"Crucio!" the man cried out. Immediately, the boy fell to the floor, his body full of pain. The burning torture was nothing that he could ever stand. His limbs twitched with the agony of his flesh tearing apart within him. But the scar…the lightning-shaped scar was searing with white hot fire. The unforgivable curse was giving the best of his body, robbing him of every pleasure of mind, soul, and spirit. His screams could be heard throughout the house, ringing out into the open air. And all the while, the evil wizard's laughed could be heard throughout the land…

"Harry…Harry…are you ok, mate?"

Ron and Hermione were beside Harry's bed, trying to settle him down in his sleep. The other boys in the dorm were sleeping sound, unaware of the horrible nightmare Harry had been having.

"Please…Harry…wake up…"

Harry awoke at the touch of Hermione's had across his cheek. Her hands were cold, and felt good to his forehead. The scar felt burning hot as in the dream, but she soothed it with her gentle touch.

"Harry, what's wrong?" Ron asked.

Harry sat up from bed, looked around the room. A cold sweat insured. Why was he dreaming this? What was happening?

"Nothing…I'm fine…"

Hermione looked over at him. He was becoming increasingly distant, like he always wanted to handle things himself. She didn't like him when he was like this. She wanted to help him. And so did Ron. She looked over at Ron. He was worried about him too. There was nothing so important as being there for Harry. That was one thing that they both agreed on. But somehow, Ron was different. Helping Harry to him was one of blunt rigidness. She figured that was how it was with men, handling everything stoically and without compassion. She wanted to help him differently. She couldn't stand his suffering. Nightmares were something very real to Harry, and she wanted to take them away from him. As she looked over toward Harry again, her heart went out to him. She couldn't stand to see him suffer as a friend, but as a best friend, she couldn't stand to see him alone.

"It's ok, Harry…go back to sleep, mate…we're watching over you…"

Harry found comfort to Ron's words. He settled back down in his bed, shivering in the coolness of the room. He shut his eyes, and drifted off into a shiftless slumber. Ron and Hermione would be watching him all night.


	2. The Morning After

The very next morning, Hermione found herself asleep in the common room. She vaguely remembered leaving Harry's dorm the night before, but could recall most of the events in the stormy night. He had been in fits throughout the downpour, though she was sure he had remained asleep. Towards morning, Harry finally nestled into a calm state, and Hermione figured she must not have been able to make it to her own bed.

She sat up, looking very dazed, as if she was still in a dream. _It can't be more than seven o'clock_, she thought to herself. _I'd better go down and eat while its not too crowded in the Great Hall_.

Hermione stood up, wobbling a little at first. The blood rushed to her head, and she had to sit down on the couch again. _I've got to get a hold of myself_, she thought.

When her vision finally cleared, she walked over to the Fat Lady's portrait. The Fat Lady looked somewhat disturbed and agitated.

"Bed knobs and broomsticks! What was all the screaming about last night! I didn't get a wink of sleep!"

Hermione was shocked. _Had Harry been that loud?_ She had to make up an excuse quick.

"Ummmm…it was just a…ummm…a first year, madam. A little boy had a nightmare I think…that's all."

The Fat Lady's eyes grew wide with a mixture of anger and surprise. "Well tell the child to SHUT UP! No one could get any sleep last night! Nearly Headless Nick was scared out of his haunts!"

Hermione's expression changed from troubled to deeply worried. "Don't worry, I'll tell the little kid…Just let me out, please."

The Fat Lady huffed and puffed as the portrait door opened, muttering something about inconsiderate first years and their petty little fears of magic.

As Hermione went down the winding stairs, she started to analyze Harry's situation. It was becoming worse than she thought. She couldn't understand all of it, she had to know more. And she knew just the person who would provide the information to her…

The Great Hall wasn't crowded. In fact, it was quite vacant, except for a few Huffelpuffs and a group of Ravenclaws. But there was a lone Gryffindor at the Gryffindor table: Ron Weasley. Hermione quickened her pace.

"Ron, can I talk to you for a second?"

Ron looked up from his breakfast plate. His hair was messy and his eyes were bloodshot from his lack of sleep.

"Well," he said sarcastically, "aren't we the cheerful one this morning." He proceeded to go back to eating his scrambled eggs.

Hermione rolled her eyes at him. Then she reached into her robe for a pocket mirror. She didn't look nearly as cheerful as Ron had described. Her hair was even bushier than usual because she hadn't brushed it. Her eyes were red and had dark circles underneath them. She sighed impatiently.

"Ron, please, this is important to me."

Ron turned around in his seat again. "Do you really expect me to think this early in the morning? I'm tired enough as it is! Go and bug somebody else."

"RON!" Hermione shouted. The Huffelpuffs and Ravenclaws started staring at the two of them. Hermione grabbed Ron by the collar of his robe. "Just tell me what I want to know, and I will leave you alone!"

Ron looked slightly taken aback. "Alright," he said. "But will you promise to leave me to my breakfast when you are done?"

The blood was rising in Hermione's veins. "YES, I BLOODY PROMISE!"

"OK! Could you put me down now!" Ron yelled back.

Hermione hadn't noticed that she had nearly picked him up off his seat. "Oh my," she exclaimed. "I'm dreadfully sorry, Ron." She let go of his robes.

Ron looked at her weirdly, like he couldn't believe she didn't know what she was doing. "Umm…that's alright…I guess…"

"Good then." Hermione was back to her normal self. "To begin, I need an inside story."

Ron was in the process of devouring pancakes. "'Bout what?" he asked.

Hermione was hesitant to answer the question. "Well…about Harry. I'm starting to get worried about him, Ron."

"Don't we all?" Ron said angrily. "I hate it that he has become this angry and isolated! I'm beginning to think that everything in our friendships is going to fall apart." Ron's fork started shaking in his hand. "It's like every time we get near him, or offer any sort of help to him, he snaps back like a cobra."

It was hard for Hermione to keep back her own say about Harry's isolation. He had, after all, been a bloody horrible friend to them, acting like a jerk when they offered a helping hand in his troubles.

"Actually," Hermione said softly, "I wanted to know about his nightmares."

Ron stared at his plate. "Oh," he said. He picked up a piece of sausage and gnawed on it slowly.

"Let me think…it's been about two weeks since the first one, possibly a week and a half. But it's getting worse…" He turned to Hermione solemnly. "Every night he tosses and turns, screaming like a mad man. It's gotten so bad now that I've had to put sleeping charms on the rest of the guys in our dorm, just so they won't wake up." He suddenly raised a questioning eyebrow. "Wait a second, how did you hear Harry's screams?"

"Oh…" Hermione had trouble answering this question.

"Well…..last night I was in the common room. I couldn't sleep because of all the thunder and lightning. It scared me so bad, so I got up and tried to work on the Potions paper due next week. Then I heard Harry, and ran up to your dorm, and was surprised to see the door open." She paused for a second, to regroup the information she had found that morning. "Ron…I don't know how to say this, but Harry's screams could be heard all over Hogwarts. I don't know why the other people in Gryffindor didn't wake up…there must be some sort of charm put on the walls to make it soundproof…but the Fat Lady told me that the screaming scared Nearly Headless Nick our of his haunts! That can't be good…"

"You're right…that can't be good…" Ron absorbed all of Hermione's words like a sponge. _Had Harry been that loud_, he thought.

"I'm glad we agree," she said. "Do you have any idea of what he's dreaming about?"

Ron thought for a moment. Then he grabbed a piece of toast to spread marmalade on it. "It's…its hard to make out what he says in his nightmares……he's always mumbling something, and then saying something about _them_…but I don't know who _they_ are…"

Hermione pursed her lips. "Come on now…you must have some idea. I mean after all…you tow are best friends…"

Ron had had enough of the interrogation. "I don't know him any more!" he exploded. "Do you really think I haven't tried to get through to him? Why do you want to know anyway! It's not like you…" Ron paused mid-sentence. A strange thought came to mind. He looked at Hermione suspiciously.

"Surely you don't…"

"D-don't what?" Hermione asked, fearful of the answer.

Ron looked at her as if she was crazy. "My God," he said, "you do! You can't do this! You can't do this to all of us!"

Hermione was frightened by Ron's anger. "Do what! You aren't making this clear!"

Ron got up from the table, shaking his head in disbelief. "You figure it out! You're the cleverest witch of our year, for Merlin's sake! You figure out why you feel the need to rescue our so-called "friend" from loneliness!"

Hermione was left alone at the Gryffindor table, puzzled by her hidden feelings for Harry.


End file.
